The Real Me: Hermione's Story
by Aria2
Summary: The real story of Hermione's life. Short story.


The Real Me

My name is Hermione Granger. A strange name, a strange person. Hearing that name might bring the image of a girl carrying half-a-dozen books. And as much as that vision is correct, it isn't. You see, you probably think that I was always studious. Well, that isn't the case. You see, that Hogwarts letter changed my life…

I was always an outcast. In my old school, I was the one whom no one wants to sit by at lunch. Friends were practically an unknown concept. The way it was for my first few days at Hogwarts. But with one difference. I was considered to be "stupid". It wasn't that I didn't have the potential. Nothing sparked my interest. 

The day that is most memorable in my mind is the day we brought report cards home. I walked slowly home, not wanting to slit open the paper envelope. I thought about what might be in there. I quickly shut my eyes. I didn't want to think about that. 

When I got to my door I savored the few moments before I would have to open the card in front of my mother. I prayed to god that I hadn't failed any subjects. I tried to slink to my room, in the hopes she had forgotten that report cards came today. "Hermione, dear, I'm in the living room!"

I tried to stuff the card under a cushion before she came in. I was too late. "Don't report cards come today, honey?" 

"Um…yeah." I tried to sound nonchalant, hoping that she wouldn't ask to see it.

"May I see it?"

I stalled for time by repeating the question.

"Can you see it? Uh…um…let's see…"

Her beautiful blue eyes narrowed. Eyes that I would never have.

"Just let me see it."

I opened my mouth in protest, but was inturrupted by my mother. "No arguments, Hermione. Hand it over."

I then handed the envelope without a murmur. 

She opened it slowly, taking the time that I never would of. She pulled out the slip of paper slowly, torturing me slowly. I tried to resist the longing to rip it from her hands.

"Look at it." She pressed it into my hands.

English: 67%

Math: 56%

Social Studies: 66%

Reading: 81%

I went numb. I had gotten a B! A B! I HAD GOTTEN A "B"!!

I danced around the house singing. My mother, however, was not pleased. 

"Hermione, you failed math."

"Oh." I stopped singing Madonna's "Like a prayer."

"Hermione Anne Granger, do you realize what this means?"

I gulped.

" IT MEANS, YOUNG LADY, THAT YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR THE REST OF THE MONTH!"

But hardly anything could mar my happiness! I had gotten a B!

A few months later, it was my birthday. I, of course, had never had a birthday party, because I had no friends. All there was to look forward to was going into another year of school, in hopes that it would all end as quickly as possible. But this year, I just wanted to die. I hoped that it would end quickly. I just couldn't endure another year of the snide comments.

I just wanted to fit in.

I heard a tapping on the window, just then.

I started, not knowing what it was. I then thought of a logical explanation: there was a large oak outside of my window. It must have been scratching up against it. I went to open my window to break off the branch that had caused my nocturnal fright.

Only it wasn't a branch.

It was an owl. But that wasn't what froze me in my tracks. It was the fact that it had a letter tied to it's leg. I had always wanted to believe that magic would take me from this life, and now it had!

I took the strange envelope from the owl's leg, and read. A small smile crept over my face, slowly transforming it into a grin. My mouth formed unspoken words, for I was too happy to speak. 

I was going to a magical school. And I was going to make it better this time.

A/n: That story really isn't good. I had an idea, and it just made me want to get it out. Sorry for the last CM story; I KNOW that it wasn't exactly making sense!

So, here is the REAl a/n:

Wormtail sucks.

I am on a writers block island for Christy Moody:Part 8. Not only can I not think up ideas, I am TOTALLY flabbergasted by lack of reviews! All I can do is say THANK YOU to Nemesis, who is possibly the only thing that keeps me going. **(And don't let your conscience prick you for all those little white lies you use when reviewing.**

Okay, grey. FINE! PURE, UNDILUTED BLACK! HAPPY NOW?)

I am writing a story on writer's block, which I have plenty of! It will be called:

****

Greetings from the island of Writers Block!

Sorry to bore you. I'm bored. There is no other excuse.

Disclaimer: None of this wonderful stuff belongs to me. Prongs rox.

Dedicated to: Eliza Diawna Snape. Hopefully the next story you see will be something good(from me, not her!)

WHOEVER ChikAmata is, BURN IN HELL!


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